


Meeting the First King!

by Freewilllife



Series: The beginning of a New Era! [1]
Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: Anime, Gen, Manga, Misery, The beginning of a New Era!, deaths mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 01:28:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13513899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freewilllife/pseuds/Freewilllife
Summary: The bond is broken. The Era of the dragon warriors is finished.Zeno is remembering the old days. His reasons for becoming a Dragon Warrior, the reason that the First King came down to earth....a tale of the life of King Hiryuu before and after the bond was created....Zeno was a small boy, living in a village,bordering the land, that is later called the Fire Tribe. Even though the people were trying to appear content, despair is looming under the surface, until Zeno heard of a strange king, appearing out of thin air...





	Meeting the First King!

**1\. Meeting the First King**

 

_I admired the Red Dragon._

_The Dragon with a strong soul…_

_and the devotion and admiration of everyone throughout Kouka._

_It was that Red Dragon, that I admired._

_With the Warriors that possessed the powers of the Dagon Gods at his command_

_King Hiryuu quelled the country s chaos._

_Kan Kyoga_

 

His wish came true. The bond is broken. The prophecy is fulfilled. Just different. Much different from what Zeno anticipated before. Though a part of him has always been aware of that possibility.

His long cherished wish ..to see the ones, who once perished before his eyes. Their ageing...their dying process...he was a quiet observer, a visitor but not one who participated in life.

Small gaps existed in the airless, quiescent room where he waited...and waited long days and nights, changing months, exciting and uneventful years, whole decades, tiring centuries and millenniums.

These tiny little fractions of time warming his inner self, his partly frozen heart. Zeno in his youth was a different guy.

One who felt pain when people died. Their anguish...being born during a time of war. His mother was gone before he even had the chance to remember her consciously. She died of malnutrition, when he was barely two years old, his grand-father told him that later. A leader of a foreign tribe had declared war on his tribe, could have been also the other way around. Zeno doesn t know it and it really doesn t bother him in the least.

Essential is just this one fact: Most of their crops vanished. Were they stolen by the „enemy "? The earth was dry and growing plants on it, was hard work. Even during "good periods" with no armed conflicts who had been present ever since the beginning of all times, there was hardly enough for this village. Were they burned to ashes during an attack? Who knew that after 2000 years?

Important is just this: Many people had much less food in the winter following that war.

"It was bad, Zeno. Much worse, then you could even imagine, child of mine. We had to eat pretty much everything what was available. I can tell you, after that winter, I didn t look at a tree for a couple of months. ,"his grand-pa told him. How old was he? 8 years maybe? Usually his grand-pa didn t talk about such topics. Maybe it was that person, that inspired him to call death by his name.

Death is a natural occurrence, but if you talk too much about it, he joins you too soon. So better tell a joke, then complain about events you cannot change. Better smile, then cry.

But his lack of a mother s warmth, Zeno hasn t ever minded.

When he thinks about a mother, his grand-mother s face would come to his mind. His father who died early on in one of those countless battles. Zeno has been an orphan ever since.

His grand-parents were kind, hard-working people. Being born in a village at the hills that bordered the land that would be later called the Fire Tribe. It was a harsh climate and a barren land. The people there prayed to the gods daily. Zeno didn t understand that. As a child, he was clueless about such things. When he said clueless, Zeno meant that he knew of the gods, but he was not aware of them.

As a child, he was unable to sense their existence. The gods were as important as his father or his mother. He liked thinking of them, but they didn t really influence his world until that day.

To his grand-parents though, the gods were as essential as bread and water. Zeno folded his hands and stared at his grand-parents faces, when they fell silent for a period. Occasionally mumbling to themselves.

Especially his grand-mother. The person closest to Zeno at that time. Every time so often, she looked at the sky and her face lightened up. Zeno nearly hurt his neck, to see, what was there, that made his grand-ma laugh.

But he was unable to see „them ". It was still too soon for him. „Seeing „and „Talking „with the gods was as natural as breathing to the people of this tribe. There were several other villages that counted to the tribe, he had been born into.

But there was a certain pressure. Like the air before a storm. „Something „was tickling him. His senses had started to awaken.

Then one morning he was able to listen to their twitter. Sometimes quiet and tender, but every so often could morph into forceful directions.

His grand-mother was delighted. She thought of him as a special, little boy, who won the „gods favour" so easily. His full head of blond hair was considered a sign, that his life would be a blessing. Normally many children had fewer hair due to malnutrition. So, in fact Zeno may have been just lucky to grow up in a fraction of time, where there was more food available? Even though there were still some minor conflicts, the number of wars had dropped. Later much later, he would understand the cause.

One morning his grand-mother died. He was 8 by now. It was spring. She lay there in the grass on the hill before their hut. Maybe she had looked at the sky in the morning? Maybe she had been smiling, while she died? Zeno wishes to believe that.

There was a person, floating over his grand-mother s head. Zeno confused this being to be a woman in the first moment. Leaves were growing out of her head. All kinds of wild flowers were blooming in that structure. A beautiful, but merciless person. If death had ever had a human form. it would be that „god ".

_That is why the name of that „god "won't be called. Do not search for his company, you may regret it!_

„The woman" told him coldly that this „human being"had received their last blessing. „Her"face was a mask, unreadable to him. After that, „her „substance started to vanish. Little by little, the god was dissolving his essence in that world.

The day of his grand-mother s death was the one, the gods gave him his ability to be fully aware of their existence, to see them, to talk with them.

His grand-father, old, but upright standing, commanded him, not to cry too much about it.

„ _Don t complain, Zeno! It is a sin to do that. The gods have an excellent memory_ ", his grand-pa told him.

During his talk though, his grand-father had to suppress his own tears, his shoulders sunk nearly down.

Zeno loves his grand-father, but he was also a young lad. There has been an uproar in the village recently. Even in their village, which was surrounded by trees, and hills, the news finally had reached.

„ _There is one person, that is called, king._

_He barely is a grown-up, but even now there are people who listen to him._

_For the first time ever, more than 100 different tribes are unified under one leader._

_That is why they call him king._

_And if you could see him._

_Hair like fire, glowing as red as the dawning sky._

," Geuntae told him and a few others. The young people listened to his tale in anticipation. This young man was one of the ones who were visiting every village in order to find new people to join. His hair was raven, and his skin was darker than the ones of Zeno s village. It was the first time that such a person visited their tribe. From his demeanour and clothes, one could tell, that he had must have been one of these people born on the horseback. Famous for their cruel and strong fighters. There were no one prouder than these people of that famous tribe of the east. Their promises were absolute. This was maybe one of the reason their chef let him in. However, ...

There was a tension in the air like Zeno has never felt before. He had nearly the impression that he could just reach out and grab the thoughts of everyone else.

Finally, a young girl, with dirty blonde hair, with a flower in it, barely older than Zeno dared to speak. No adult was courageous enough. She fumbled on her thin dark blond hair, while she talked, but everyone was able to see: She had had to ask! Her eyes were glittering, but also full of doubt.

Zeno was nearly able to speak for her...The same thoughts were running through their minds. „Is there a possibility, that it may be true? That the fights could stop? Is there hope? "

„ _Then. Then why do they follow him? "_ , she wished to know. Her voice was low, but shockingly loud in the silence of the room. The chief of their village had granted him the right to speak in front of everyone in his own house. Though even the chief s house could be barely called a hut back then.

The stranger of the east earned his right to speak by presenting gifts. Milk of their horses, preserved by a procedure, which was not very foreign to Zeno s tribe. The sour milk would taste just fine, while there were no new crops out in the fields. The winter had just said goodbye to them. The people have been still hungry. Even Zeno s belly has been singing day and night...though the tune was well-known to poor people even now.

The winter had been harsh. While the summers were especially hot, in winter, it was not a rare occurrence, that the weak, the sick people, small children and the old died. Zeno doesn t remember, every word that was spoken in that fateful night.

The first time he heard of the man that was later to be known as the First King. Not just as the first king of Kouka. Before King Hiryuu there had been no real kings or emperors.

But Zeno still remembers that 7 people had been hungered to death and several people had become sick in a village of just around 73 people.

He was aware of that just like everyone else present. Hunger was a silent guest, silently strangling some to death, while others may just be grabbed by the neck.

At that moment 66 people were looking at him with hungry eyes...But the hunger was not only of the physical sort. They had hungered for hope, for a possibility ...that they lives may be able to be changed.

Living a life without even the slightest chance for a change, for a better life for them and their children. Rotting away on that land, the darkness of despair was looming under the surface. It was written all over their faces.

Now...he had appeared...A light in the darkness? Their only hope?

While that girl was asking her question, Zeno didn t hear a single noise. In dead silence her words fell out of her mouth.

The face of the man suddenly froze. As if it would have been a question, he wouldn t have considered.

Silently he looked at the floor.

The spell, his tale had casted upon his tribe, had been broken. Zeno noticed that.

Voices were mumbling, shouts could be heard.

 _„So, it is just a fairy tale. Too good to be true, "_ Zeno had recognized the voice of his grand-father.

 _„Just what you expect from our sworn enemy, telling us sweet lies_ ", screamed an old woman; her face full of malice.

Zeno was doubtful too. Just like that woman had told. Maybe this person even had been responsible for the death of his father?

However, strangely that man just smiled, when he heard the old hag shout due to her own disappointment. Merc, had been a bitter old wife, who had just recently lost her last relatives. Her only daughter and her infant. Her husband had been put to sleep forever by just the tribe of this man.

Nobody dared to even say a word. She was the most miserable person in the whole village. Even though people of his tribe cared for the elders and sick of the whole tribe, she had pretty much nobody left.

Smiling at their faces, their enemy held his hand high.

 _„ You do misunderstand me. I didn t lie. It is just...,"_ he paused here...Zeno remembers that even now, _" It is hard to tell...I..."_

He looked at the inner part of his hand... _"How should I describe this person? It is so easy...It is easy, "_ he emphasized.

„ _It is so easy to just blame his red hair...or that he is a good fighter...and maybe he is a pretty good strategist...But honestly that is not the reason I follow him. I follow him, because ..._

because...," The last part was uttered with a pretty low voice; nearly tenderly.

He looked in the eyes of Zeno s tribe, the ones he may had killed before.

_„Because it is him! Because it is Hiryuu!,"_

His eyes were burning, glowing. The fire that had been lighted by that person...had been started by Hiryuu...it started to spring over. ...

Zeno observed that the same light suddenly appeared in their eyes. Not in all of them, but in many...many of those 66 people present.

 _„You know_ , "his gentle smile appeared again, _" Come with me. Look for yourself. Look at our Hiryuu. At the person, I would give my everything to! The only person I call a god! "_

Many of his listeners were running outside, grabbing their little property, they had left. Out of 66 people 26 people left the village on that day.

It weren t the most skilled fighters, that had left the village. The chief told them, from now on, they would be on their own.

This villages would not yield to King Hiryuu. They would not hail a foreign god. The elders of his tribe and some of the younger people understood, what King Hiryuu was.

They knewn...A god...a human god...He had come down to them. They knew it was the god of the sun itself, that presented himself before them.

But it was not their Yellow Dragon!

But there were enough others... that were reaching out their hands. To touch the man of that man. The god under the humans.

Zeno had been standing there shocked. That man had put some of the weaker ones on the donkey s back he had brought with himself. Even on his own horse sat the one woman, who had just nearly spat at his face.

Merc told the chief of this village, that she had to see for herself, if that person would be worth fighting for, would be worth dying for.

She recognized his power...But also what price would be coming with it.

Zeno s feet were moving. He was following the horse, like many others.

The old and young of his village walked beside him...Soon they saw another group...They were from another tribe, that once had crossed swords with his own.

But they just silently went next to them. More and more people joined after some time. He even spotted the golden strands of his cousin,Jupit. Much older than him living a couple of villages away.

Zeno doesn t know how long they had been wandering the wilderness. At one point the green of the forests changed to the grey of a mountained area.

It may had been hours, it may had been days. Onwards to the king...Onwards to King Hiryuu! Meeting the first King!

At one day, the mountains parted and there was a great plain surface. At first Zeno thought that there were flowers blooming, after a moment, he recognized...Those were people...

Hundreds of people. All their clothes were different, their faces or hair colours. In the middle of them all...A young person...with red glowing hair...People were touching him, their hands outstretched...Like they had to see with their own hands...as if their eyes were not enough

Zeno was just able to see him from far apart, there had been too many people...finally meeting their king!

The young boy wondered.. _."Why is it like that? Why are they all like that?_

_Is it that, what Geuntae had told us? The power...that inspires people to unify under one king?_

_Is it the power to tear apart families and tribes? "_


End file.
